Little seed of evil
by Heretic angel
Summary: An adult, emotionally tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Awful things happen and secrets are revealed. PG 13
1. Everything changes

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter 1 - Everything changes  
  
The dark, gloomy halls did not seem to bother Severus Snape at all as he fled from Dumbledore's office, his face set in anger, his hands clenched to fists. His pace was feverishly and awkward, as he could barely move his knee on the right side.  
  
He might have known. He must have known. In the thirty years that he had served at Hogwarts to stupid, little wizard and muggle brats, Dumbledore had never given him that job. Defences against the dark arts.  
  
Who had taken the job from him? Severus got angrier at the thought.  
  
For a moment, he had thought that Dumbledore was joking with him. But when he saw that peculiar look in that man's old, blue eyes, he knew. Just knew that it was true.  
  
The first person to play Quidditch as a first year at Hogwarts in a hundred years.  
  
The boy who defeated Voldemort 7 times.  
  
Or more simply said: The boy who lived.  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
He had often wondered what had happened to the boy after that last night. Of course he knew what had happened to Hermione Granger, one of Hogwarts most promising students.  
  
Albus and Minerva talked frequently about that muggle born female, with hushed voices, full of grief. Pomfrey would often be lost for words, but he did simply not care.  
  
But so far, until three days ago, nobody knew what Harry Potter had been up to. It was as if he'd vanished from the earth in a puff of smoke.  
  
Until three days ago, of course. He had not explained where he had been, or what he'd done, but obvious enough, he had auditioned for the DADA position. And Dumbledore had been so kind to give it to him. To him. Harry Potter.  
  
"By dear Merlin, what have I done to deserve this?" he muttered under his breath as he made his way to his private quarters. He could cool off there; he wasn't going to show his anger to Albus in either way.  
  
This year was going to be hard. He had trouble facing the kid sixteen years ago, so he couldn't figure out why he could now.  
  
He had thought the kid would die by You-know-who's hand years ago, that he would never make it to full grown man.  
  
Seemed that his predictions were wrong. Ron Weasley died, together with the other Weasleys. Not Harry Potter.  
  
"Good riddance."  
  
It was obvious that Severus Snape was furious; even he had laughed now and then with the pranks of the Weasley twins, had admiration for Charlie Weasley who had worked with dragons . But they were gone now. Just like everything else.  
  
Almost every inhabitant of that house of theirs, The Burrow, he believed what it had been called, was killed, including Harry's sidekick, Ron Weasley.  
  
He remembered that look on the boy's face all too well, when he saw the house light up in a ferocious fire that did not leave any time at all to save any of the residents.  
  
House, people, animals, all were history in a matter of seconds.  
  
Snape could only grin at that thought. Yes, The Weasleys were a sad loss, for they had helped The Order Of The Phoenix many times.  
  
But the past was the past. He was able to lock the past away, forget about it and only focus on the present. Which he needed to do, god damn it!  
  
This time of the holidays usually was only reserved for preparing for the new school year that was coming.  
  
He cried out the secret password to his private chambers, and entered, with his bad knee throbbing more than ever.  
  
Sitting down in a luxurious chair, padded with soft, brown leather and positioning his right leg on the rather kitsch, little, low prayer bench that stood before the chair, as always, he reminded himself to fix him another potion that could abandon the pain of his knee.  
  
And then Severus Snape smiled.  
  
Well, Harry Potter would not be surprised when he came back to Hogwarts; Severus Snape would be waiting.  
  
And he was ready.  
  
Next chapter - I'll sleep when I'm dead - up soon  
  
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Heretic Angel bows solemnly to:  
  
Lianniss, who reviewed it a half hour after I posted it.  
  
BTW: Tolkien rules! If you like , we could write a LOTR fic together.  
  
Nick Saelens, who never has been much of a reader. But who am I to judge? Let's all give him a big applause for reading this fic. (He's my boyfriend BTW)  
  
Rachelle1979, who gave me wonderful advice. I have lots of plans for this fic, I only have to make sure that it stays comprehensible at all times. 


	2. I'll sleep when I'm dead

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter two - I'll sleep when I'm dead  
  
The room was shabby, to say the last.  
  
Plates with uneaten food lay shattered around the little place, in various states of decay, dirty robes were thrown over the edge of his bed, several books lay open completely meaningless to pages he had never intended to read.  
  
The room looked like it had gotten in trouble with the occupant. And yes, he had gone into a slight fit when he received that letter. A letter he never thought to receive.  
  
How had he found him? All these years that he roamed through the wizard world, he had never spoken out his name, never written it down, or even whispered it.  
  
And yet he had found him.  
  
He sighed deeply as he looked out of the window, which showed Diagon Alley by night, with the shops closed, the shoppers long gone. His owl, Hermes, hooted softly in his iron cage, but he could not, did not, pay attention right now.  
  
How?  
  
He picked up the letter carefully and studied the handwriting once more. The green ink seemed to blaze alight on the parchment, saying;  
  
Harry Potter ,  
  
The Leaky Cauldron,  
  
Diagon Alley , room 12.  
  
Dumbledore. He reached for the bottle with his favourite drink, called 'Witches brew' , not a very favoured drink among wizards, as the taste was foul and vile.  
  
But as he had spent many times in the hospital wing, drinking potions that virtually tasted the same as this drink, he could manage.  
  
People did not like the qualities of 'Witches brew', as it transformed whenever the mood of the drinker would change. Thus, the perfect drink for him. His moods always changed.  
  
Always.  
  
He poured some of the now green drink in a beaker, and drank. His face scrunched in disgust.  
  
So he was back to being Harry Potter, then ?  
  
A small, rusty smile came over his face. He had not laughed in years, but the irony was so strong, that he couldn't do anything else.  
  
He had confirmed to Dumbledore's letter, which meant that he was stuck to one year's teaching at Hogwarts.  
  
Hogwarts had been good for him, Voldemort had not. And life after Hogwarts had only proven to be worse.  
  
His former job had been a mistake. His admiration for Tonks and Moody had been to strong to think reasonably.  
  
Standing up, with the beaker still in his hand, he moved to the mirror.  
  
Dumbledore would most certainly remember the younger Harry Potter, the kid who had left Hogwarts sixteen years ago. But his job had changed his outer and inner appearance.  
  
The man in the figure stared at him, just like he was doing. He had a beaker in his hand. Long, black hair, urgently in need of a cut, which in a way reminded him kindly of Sirius.  
  
The scar that made him famous, almost hidden under his black manes. Piercing green eyes that looked dull, without life.  
  
A scar on his left cheek, that had been a sucker to heal properly; the wound had been deep, and the dagger poisoned. He called it his 'mood' scar, because, just like 'the witches brew', it lit up a fiery red when he was angry.  
  
One on his chin, caused by similar reasons, but had been much easier to heal. On his neck he could notice the burn nearly brushing out of the collar of his robe; that had a different story. But right now, he did not want to remember.  
  
He drank once more from the beaker, and sighed after the liquid had passed his throat, before removing his black, worn robe and equally black T-shirt.  
  
His chest was covered in scars, but that was something Dumbledore would hopefully never see. Although he couldn't see it; he knew that his back was in worse condition.  
  
Days without pain were few. Most of scars had been magically enhanced, and remained causing pain long after the wounds had been healed.  
  
"Harry Potter.", he said to the man in the mirror. "I am Harry Potter."  
  
But somewhere deep inside the dark pits of his soul, he knew that he had long ago ceased to exist as Harry Potter; the name no longer felt right.  
  
To the world, he was Harry Potter. To Dumbledore he was Harry. To Snape he had been just Potter.  
  
Another weary grin came over his face. It was long ago since he'd laughed. The habit was gone.  
  
"I am Harry Potter.", he spoke again to the mirror. "I am Harry Potter."  
  
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Please do not forget : This is the altered version. I will add a story called 'The Harry Potter rejections'. Be sure to check out those, because they hold clues .. One clue has already been evealed : that Harry has the dark mark on his arm.  
  
Heretic angel solemnly bows for:  
  
Elanor. Bedankt. Hou wist je dat ik Nederlands spreek ? Mijn index gezien of zo ?  
  
Andromeda's kitty. I have updated already. Was this fast enough ? And yes, I will continue. This story will NOT be left alone. I promise 


	3. History teaches us everything part 1

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Comments: I just needed to include this, or else I would have had to include it in the story , and that would have been messy. ;) I could miss a kid out of two in The Weasley family .  
  
Of course, I will only review the history of those who are important to this story.  
  
And still I won't say everything . I need to have a bit of a plot as well huh!  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter three - History teaches us everything  
  
MAY BE SUBJECT TO CHANGE  
  
History of the Weasley family since 2005  
  
The heads of the Weasley family , Molly and Arthur Weasley , and five of their children , Charlie, Bill, Ron , Fred and George were murdered viciously by the hand of Voldemort on the sixteenth of may 2005, a couple weeks before Ron Weasley was to graduate from Hogwarts.  
  
When an attack from Voldemort was launched on the school, in the hope to capture (and kill) Harry Potter for once and all, all the members residing in the UK were advised by Albus Dumbledore to flee to The Burrow, where they would be safe, according to Albus Dumbledore. Bill, Charlie and Fred were in country at that time; working for The Order Of The Phoenix.  
  
So the family members fled to The Burrow. Two hours later, nothing more remained of that building but ashes and bones.  
  
Ginnie Weasley, however, was the only one to survive this vicious and cruel attack; she had taken part to a exchange program with Beauxbatons at the time, and Dumbledore had not thought it needed to transfer the girl back to the United Kingdom.  
  
Ginnie Weasley now resides in St. Mungo's; the shock of losing her family so suddenly changed her for good. She is 31 years old.  
  
Dumbledore is blamed for this sad event; if the Weasleys had not been sent to The Burrow, there is a good chance that still would have been alive, as Voldemort was defeated shortly after.  
  
History of Hermione Granger since 2005  
  
Hermione Granger did not flee with Ron Weasley, but stayed at Harry's side when he faced Voldemort. When death eaters surrounded her, she fought cruelly and bravely.  
  
However; a fight never comes without scars and wounds.  
  
When the battle was lost and won, and Voldemort was defeated, Hermione Granger was found back with several large burns on her body.  
  
As the wounds had been afflicted by a magic that was stronger then that of Madame Pomfrey's, Hermione Granger now goes through life with a disfigured face.  
  
It is said that she works for the ministry's department of Magic since she graduated from Hogwarts. She is practically never seen in public; and if she does, her disfigured face is hidden from view with a shawl.  
  
It is rumoured that Hermione Granger is married with a man that is disfigured himself by numerous burns, others say that she lives with Harry Potter, who has not been seen in public since 2007.  
  
History of Severus Snape since 2005  
  
Severus Snape stood at Albus Dumbledore's side when Voldemort attacked the castle.  
  
Even as the death mark burned, nearly driving him insane, he kept fighting those who had been his long ago. His betrayal was quickly noticed. The death eaters cursed him with several unforgivable curses, meant to hurt him severely.  
  
But Dumbledore interfered when things came too close to what would have meant the death for Severus Snape.  
  
Severus Snape witnessed The Burrow go up in flames, and stopped Harry Potter from running into the burning house. It is said he did not shed a tear then, and did not shed tears afterwards. But than again, what can be expected from a former death eater?  
  
Dumbledore discharged Severus Snape from Hogwarts for several months, to give him mental peace of mind, but his lust for work was so big, that he started giving classes not even two months later, just in time for the new school year.  
  
The death mark was gone, vanished. Without the power of Voldemort, there was no longer a reason. He was a free man.  
  
Students of Hogwarts nowadays call Severus Snape 'Limping Snape', of the injury he received during the 'Big battle' as it is now called, but only when he is not around; he is after all, still known for handing out detentions. Lots of them.  
  
History of Harry Potter since 2005  
  
When Harry Potter defeated Voldemort by using Voldemort's wand (easy if you know the spell), and saw The Burrow go up in flames, as he heard the screams of his beloved friends, as they slowly died by the power of fire, that's where the majority of the people who have studied this fateful tale think that something in Harry Potter just clicked.  
  
But in fact it happened sooner, with the deaths of both Cedric and Sirius. But no words will be spilled on that very obvious fact.  
  
But something did break that night inside Harry Potter. He received his diploma with many outstanding OWLS, mostly because of his participation of the Great battle.  
  
He went to study for an auror, as that was his biggest wish. That wish was granted without any problems.  
  
But ever since he graduated and got his degree as auror, Harry Potter disappeared from the spotlights, which is rather obvious.  
  
There were rumours that Harry Potter had died shortly after beginning his job as an auror, other rumours tell that Harry Potter had died during the great battle; but all this was shifted aside as pure nonsense when students from Hogwarts wrote home to their parents that Harry Potter was the new Defences against the Dark Arts teacher, and most definitely scarred with the mark that made him famous.  
  
Harry Potter looked more rougher, more raunchier, but that was generally accepted of age.  
  
But there are rumours about Harry Potter's missing years. Some are sure that he worked undercover for the ministry; catching the remaining death eaters, seeking for revenge to what happened to his dear friends and family.  
  
That makes this a sentimental story; although it is likely.  
  
Others say he never started his job as an auror, but went to live with Hermione, which is also likely to believe.  
  
Anyway, whatever the story about his past may be, his return caused quite a stir in the wizarding world.  
  
And as the old saying goes : "Long live Harry Potter!" 


	4. History teaches us everything part 2

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Comments: I just needed to include this, or else I would have had to include it in the story , and that would have been messy. ;)  
  
Missed anyone ? Yes, Draco Malfoy and Voldemort! I will not give away much clues, but I can tell that Draco will play an important part in this series. A VERY important part .  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter four - History teaches us everything part two  
  
MAY BE SUBJECT TO CHANGE  
  
History of Draco Malfoy since 2005  
  
Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be seen on the day of The Great Battle. It was assumed that he had fled before the action had even begun; being the child of a death eater had some advantages.  
  
His father, Lucius Malfoy, was still in Azbakan, but had connections enough to warn his son about the coming attack.  
  
As a Slytherin, he of course did not stick around any longer than he had to; he fled to Malfoy Manor.  
  
That is the last thing known of Draco Malfoy. Some believe he also has been killed by Voldemort, although that seems little likely.  
  
Some rumours say that Draco Malfoy has become one of the 'new death eaters', which will be explained in the following part.  
  
History of 'The New Order of Voldemort'  
  
In 2008, followers of Voldemort, those who had not yet been captured and various new members, turned the wizard world up and down.  
  
They call themselves 'The new order of Voldemort' and have been creating chaos, similar to what Voldemort did in his powerful days, ever since.  
  
Of course, not much more can be said about this subject than what is sane to say, otherwise then that it is what Harry Potter could have spent those 'missing years'; chasing 'The new order of Voldemort' or that they are trying to regain Voldemort's strength and power once again.  
  
But Voldemort is dead; herein lies the question: if there is somebody who claims to be Voldemort, who is he ?  
  
Nobody has had quite the power that Voldemort has had, by excerption only; Albus Dumbledore. And yes, this person is very powerful.  
  
Many a wizard and witch dread the night that they will see the death mark hang above their homes; the sign that their end is near.  
  
This 'The new Order of Voldemort' is very much like the former generation, for excerption that it has learned out of his mistakes.  
  
Muggle, wizard, none are left alone. 


	5. Famous people

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter five - famous people  
  
"I have been stupid in the past, Fawkes. I was wise and old enough, and yet I have made terrible mistakes."  
  
The old phoenix stared fixedly at his master.  
  
"Only good that I found Harry Potter before someone else did. It was time he returned to Hogwarts. He will be safe here."  
  
Which he knew was a false statement. In the years Harry Potter had been to Hogwarts, the one peril after the other had affected this school. Albus Dumbledore was not blind.  
  
He prepared. If Harry Potter was going to teach at this school, 'The New Order of Voldemort' would set their eyes on this school.  
  
Harry Potter was a danger, to those who thought reasonably. A danger to this school, a danger to this society.  
  
But he had vanished for almost sixteen years. To Dumbledore, it was like welcoming a lost son back home.  
  
Dumbledore had his connections. And had used them for years to find Harry Potter, even though he knew that the boy's job would not permit it. Could not permit it.  
  
"An Auror must stay hidden at all times.", Dumbledore whispered softly, as he watched his bird drink. "He must not let his presence be shown, or even speak, write or whisper his real name."  
  
That must be the fact that Harry had 'vanished' for all these years. Until he had shown up in Diagon Alley a week ago. Of course, this not went unnoticed by a few eyes, who wisely enough, kept their mouths closed, and had written letters to Dumbledore.  
  
He had not hesitated, and written a letter to Harry, in which he asked if he was alright, and if he would feel something for the Hogwarts position of Defences against the Dark arts.  
  
The boy had written back almost instantly, and had said yes. He would be arriving at Hogwarts with the school train, of which Dumbledore was rather displeased with.  
  
He wanted to speak with Harry, but knew he couldn't do so when he wasn't ready to talk.  
  
"Fawkes, what should I do?"  
  
The magical bird cocked his neck, staring once again at his master. In the eyes of the bird, Dumbledore could see, and always had seen, advice. Advice that could not be spoken or heard.  
  
"Fawkes, sometimes I wish you could speak, my dear bird. Because I am at a dead end here. "  
  
Dumbledore sighed .  
  
"Who am I to dwell on about the life of Harry Potter? I do believe that his own decisions were good ones. I am afraid to see the Boy who lived."  
  
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Heretic Angel bows solemnly to :  
  
Nick Saelens : a standing ovation? Heretic Angel blinks  
  
I do not deserve that, there are far better writers out there, such as JK Rowling perhaps.  
  
But , yes, thank you. After all, you are my boyfriend.  
  
Rachelle1979 : still too lazy to sign in? It is indeed a shame that FF.net does not have an automatic log in, it is a bore. And I'm happy to hear that you like the altered story. I believe that it makes much sense now, and keeps the suspense up.  
  
Please review. The more you review, the more you will get! 


	6. Carry on wayward my son

Little seed of evil  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.  
  
Title of this chapter comes from the song by Kansas. I have a rather strange way of finding perfect titles for my stories, but I will not explain them right here on ffnet. If you would like to know how, just send me an e-mail.  
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse . I don't know.  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
What should I do? Make this R rated Slash? Or leave it to vague suggestions ?  
  
or leave it out altogether on fanfiction.net , and post those pieces on my future personal website?  
  
You say it, I decide.  
  
Also, I'm going to write with A typical Snarry fan. It's going to be bloody fun!  
  
Little seed of evil - Chapter six - Carry on wayward my son  
  
Carry on my wayward son  
  
There'll be peace when you are done  
  
Lay your weary head to rest  
  
Don't you cry no more  
  
Harry Potter was lost .  
  
Lost in a sea of anger, bitterness and confusion as he travelled to Hogwarts, alone in the Hogwarts express, with Hermes on his shoulder, happy to have some companion during his travel.  
  
He was lonely, in need of a companion, a partner for life, but so far, his job had never allowed it. But for now, and he smiled softly, Hermes would do.  
  
Hermes was not Hedwig, as he had been forced to shed Hedwig off many years ago when he started his job as an auror. Hedwig was just too recognizable; every wizard and witch knew that Harry Potter, the boy who lived, owned a snow white owl.  
  
As far as he knew, Hedwig was still alive and well.  
  
Hermes hooted once, but a stroke from his master calmed him down. Still a young owl, Hermes still had to learn quite a few, but it looked like he was going to become just as promising as his former owls. Trustworthy, capable of doings his work properly, and just a good friend.  
  
Harry Potter was lonely. Most definitely.  
  
So lonely.  
  
Hogwarts had not changed ever since he had left it. Only a few new walls and the rebuilt tower of Gryffindor were the only visible proves of The Great Battle with Voldemort.  
  
Harry Potter pushed against the doors of the Great hall, surprised to see only one single person; Severus Snape, sitting at The Head table, with a Potions book in his hands.  
  
He had looked up he had heard the doors creak, but his attention was quickly lost when he noticed who it was. His attention turned back on his book, but however, Harry heard him say:  
  
"Welcome, Potter."  
  
"Professor Snape."  
  
Harry nodded quickly, and walked towards the Head table, and sat down at the place that had been reserved for the Defences against the Dark arts teacher.  
  
Not looking aside, as he didn't feel much to start a conservation with his former Potions teacher, he grabbed the beaker, filled it with wine, and drank as the students began to pour in.  
  
By the time the sorting hat was finished, the new defences against the dark arts teacher could no longer lift the heavy decanter, so he let Poppy Pomfrey do it for him.  
  
By the time Dumbledore finished his speech, he was longing for his bed. He wasn't tired, he never slept much, but he needed the warmth of the bed, and needed his owl around him, rather than old professors with whom he had long ago lost contact.  
  
"I will return to my quarters now.", he told Poppy Pomfrey, who was sipping of her wine. "If you would inform the others, I'd be grateful."  
  
His speech was slurred, and his head was spinning. Merlin, he needed to get to his bed before the whole school would believe that Harry Potter was severely drunk.  
  
He was * not * ¨feeling good. He knew why had been drinking, to try to stop his body from hurting too much for tonight. Just for tonight.  
  
"Please, Merlin. Let this stop.", he muttered softly as he rested his elbow against the table, and cradled his arm with * that * scar , that felt like it was burning, eating his way inside.  
  
A tumour. A cancer. Nothing more.  
  
A pained expression came over his face and he knew he could not hold it much longer. Poppy Pomfrey did not see his painful expression, as she was talking happily with Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall . But Snape had seen the pained expression the new teacher's face, and rose to help him.  
  
Harry was thankful , because right now, he didn't feel like he could stand up without crashing down to the floor first. It didn't matter what Snape was thinking.  
  
He needed to get to his rooms before things would get bad.  
  
Before he would be too weak and could barely breathe.  
  
"C'mon Potter! You're just too drunk!" , he heard the familiar voice say loud enough to tear Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey from their livid conservation and with a brusque move, he pulled Harry Potter from his chair .  
  
With his head spinning heavily at the sudden movement, Harry tried to not to faint. But Snape pulled once again at his arm, more gentle this time, and led him out of the Great hall, through the long corridors straight to his dorms.  
  
But Snape was not a fool. Never a fool. Harry Potter was not drunk. Not drunk at all.  
  
"What is up with this masquerade, Potter? You can fool Dumbledore and Pomfrey, but you can't fool me."  
  
He could hear Harry James Potter groan quietly as he carefully sat down on the comfortable leather chair and tried to relax as the pain shot through his body.  
  
"I was just drinking to forget my pain, Professor Snape.", the man whispered weakly as he still cradled his arm. "When pain is in your body constantly, you will do anything to forget."  
  
"Or to make it numb."  
  
Harry nodded slowly to confirm on Snape's answer, as if he was tired and the pain was becoming too much.  
  
"Let me get you to your bed. I'll call Poppy to have a look at you."  
  
Snape saw him do a weak attempt to a wave, and as the Potter boy looked at him, stared at him, he noticed the scarred of the teacher. He no longer looked innocent, or brave.  
  
A raunchy, weathered face, with a scar here and there, Long unkempt hair and the blank green eyes. He was no longer James Potter's son; James Potter would not have let his son do whatever he had done before coming to Hogwarts. Not if it would have scarred him so severely like this , and left him with pains barely to soothe by potions.  
  
"Is there any other place where it hurts, otherwise then your arm?"  
  
Another quick, distrusting glance. He did not want to tell.  
  
How obvious.  
  
"I'll be fine, professor Snape. Now, if you would excuse me." He made a false attempt to rise, but surrendered to the pain, and dropped back in the chair.  
  
"Why are you so stubborn, Potter? A potion could relieve you from all this pain."  
  
Those dull green eyes were looking at Snape once again. "'Cause I need it, in Merlin's name. I need the pain." His grin of pain disappeared. "Without pain, I don't feel the slightest bit alive."  
  
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Heretic Angel solemnly bows to :  
  
Katushka: Yes, I think it is sad of the Weasley's as well. I love redheads! But it was needed for this story. If you keep on following this series , you'll understand.  
  
Rachelle 1979 : Yes! You signed in! * Heretic angel makes a happy dance though the mess of her room * Well, talks with Fawkes will not be few. Never fear. And no more cliffhangers. This 'history .' was only to make sure that I would not overwrite the stories, so that nobody understood zilch of it. That is never my point.  
  
Star-Gazer USA : I counted starting from the time that the Philosopher's stone was released in Dutch, and that was 1998. I'm sure your info makes sense, but as I don't have the USA version of that book, I cannot look it up at page 34. Ron and Harry are still in the train. :P  
  
A typical Snarry fan: You've been great!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST GREAAAAAAAAAAAAAT! Whiii! * jumps around room * Just great. You're cool.  
  
Anora : I will continue. Never fear. This chapter was so hard to write, because I didn't know how to let Harry and Snape face each other.  
  
Elanor : Cool, you're Dutch. I'm Belgian ..  
  
Nick Saelens: Thanks for the extra plots. Love you! * kisses boyfriend.* 


	7. The beauty of suffering

Little seed of evil   
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
Why has it been so long since my last update? Well, to be honest, I've been down, as my body wouldn't stop hurting here and there. I'm almost starting to feel like my dear old Harry! But anyway; I hope you will like this rewritten chapter. I've suffered writing this .  
  
And … I promised myself a Snape doll when I received over 25 reviews! And I got him today (8 December 2003) although the figurine is badly made, and he can't even stand properly. What the heck … I got Severus Snape in my grasp! Be afraid, Sevie! Be very afraid!  **laughs maniacally**   
  
Little seed of evil – Chapter seven – The beauty of suffering  
  
Severus Snape carefully took in his current surroundings. Of course the lack of furnishing and decoration could be blamed to the fact that he had arrived only a few hours ago, but not even Dumbledore would have given anyone of his staff such a bland room.   
  
Safe for the leather chair Harry was sitting in, there was a small single bed with some dirty sheets and blankets thrown on it. A cupboard that could have come from the dingiest and dirtiest second hand shop in Knockturn Alley, and most certainly didn't belong to the Hog wart's household. Two trunks stood near the bed, both closed, but he was sure they had been open at some point, as the contents of those trunks was now shattered all over the room.   
  
And for the Potter boy, well, his pride won over his needs. As always. The man needed medical attention right now. He knew how to put on a masquerade, that was for sure.   
  
Now drowsing away, without doubt from the amount of wine he had drunk earlier, Harry Potter did not even make a peaceful impression.   
  
'Every muscle must be stiff from the pain' , Snape figured, as he saw the continuous spasms going through the young male body.   
  
"Potter, I will go and fetch Poppy Pomfrey for you. I expect you to remain in your seat, and not to move at all."  
  
He saw the younger man flinch once, as if he had been pulled out of his reverie by Severus Snape's loud and firm voice, but then dazed off again, back to only Merlin knew where.  
  
Snape snorted again, as he hurried out of the dim, mess of a room, and briskly walked through the dingy halls of Hogwarts, ignoring a group of Slytherins who were trying to hex a couple of Ravenclaws. He did not have the time, nor the patience to deal with such little bastards. Harry Potter was the one whom mattered this very moment. His knee was already beginning to hurt. His nickname, 'Limping Snape' was justified once more.   
  
He stormed through the doors of the hospital wing, with a pained grin on his face, his black robes whirling behind him.    
  
"Poppy!"  
  
A middle aged witch came out of her office, with an angry look on her face that would even tell the bravest wizard off. But Severus Snape wasn't that easily caught.  
  
"Severus , don't tell  me those pesky teenagers have been at it again … School has not even started yet."   
  
Prepared mentally for her job , she looked around a what was still a very much empty hospital dorm. Empty, spotless beds stood there row by row.   
  
"So, where is the victim?"  
  
"It does not concern a student. We're talking about a teacher in this case. Harry Potter. "  
  
"And you could not bring him here?"  
  
 Severus snorted once, as he carefully stretched his sore knee.   
  
"He is not in a position to be transported."  
  
"Well, then we must go and see him, mustn't we?"  
  
Severus saw the woman grab her medical bag, black, tarnished leather, quite similar to those muggle doctors bags, and followed her as she left her domain; the hospital wing.  
  
Keeping up with her wasn't an easy thing. Not with a sore knee, and a woman driven on hormones in front of him. Yes, everybody cared about Harry Potter. Some much more than others.    
  
"Oh dear, boy, you mustn't try to move."   
  
Poppy Pomfrey hurried towards the awkwardly rising figure, and pushed him back into the leather chair, with a clear look of concern on her face.   
  
"Why haven't you mentioned this to me earlier, Harry? I knew there must have been a reason for you drinking that much, but never figured …"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey set down the black bag down on the ground, and looked around her. "Oh my, you haven't gotten quite the most attractive living quarters, I must say."  
  
Severus smiled once in response of Pomfrey's remarks. That woman never had been afraid to say what she was thinking, no matter what.  
  
But his attention was not set on Pomfrey, it was set on Potter. The boy even seemed weaker now, looked like there was no strength left in his muscles. It surprised him that he had had even the strength to stand up.  
  
"Now, if you would remove you robes and shirt, Potter, it would make it much easier for me."  
  
Poppy Pomfrey smiled as she waited for the man to do what she asked, but it never came that far.  
  
"No. It is nothing what a good night of rest can do." Although weak, Harry's voice consisted of authority, one that would work well on students, and by wonder left Poppy Pomfrey speechless for a few moments.   
  
"Now, Harry Potter, if you will not do what I ask, I will have to take drastic charges!"  
  


"Not a chance."  
  
"Harry, remove your robes."  
  
"Not interested."  
  
Harry's voice sounded weaker and weaker each time, as if this strange 'pain' was consuming all of his leftover energy, and even merely to speak was too much.  
  
Severus Snape found the scene in front of him rather 'comical'. A man, too weak to stand up, bickering with an elderly, plump woman. But Harry Potter would not do what was asked. He knew the boy too well for that.   
  
"Stupefy!"   
  
Poppy Pomfrey looked back, her face rather sour. "Now, Severus, you shouldn't have done that. I would have managed to talk some sense in the boy. Eventually.", she added as a thought.   
  
"You would have done the same thing.", the older man stated dryly.   
  
"Now, help me to get him on that bed. That will make it easier for me."  
Poppy Pomfrey skilfully removed his robes and equally black T-shirt, which could do with an urgent wash, and stood still for a few seconds when she saw the disarray of scars and wounds on his chest, arms, neck. Needless to explain was the fact that most of them were magically inflicted; and she knew by whom. And there was nothing she could do about them.   
  
" I think you should go and get Dumbledore, Severus. This is a matter he should know about."  
  
Severus Snape nodded once. He would get Dumbledore. For the golden boy was no longer golden, or a boy. 

  
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Heretic Angel bows solemnly to :  
  
Rachelle 1979 & A typical Snarry fan :  Thank you for supporting me. This is the best I can do for now. And Lils, your story, I will send it to you as quickly as poss.   
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  


     
  
   
  
     
  
  



	8. Open my eyes

  
Little seed of evil   
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
**I reposted the content of 'The beauty of suffering' This is now chapter seven, as I have removed the outdated authors note, which was chapter one.   
**  
**Nmy new Harry Potter/Snape is up as well. I know some of you wanted to read this. Well, it's there. Just go to my profile.   
  
Oh, and please review. Thanks. * smiles friendly * I'll give you virtual Brownies.  
Promise.    
**   
Little seed of evil – Chapter eight – Open my eyes  
  
Albus Dumbledore had remained his calm self when Severus Snape suddenly stormed inside, his black robes floating behind him, with a look that told him immediately that something was gravely wrong.   
  
"It concerns Harry Potter. He is not well. Poppy Pomfrey suggested you should come, as you should see for yourself."  
  
The potions master had spoken calmly, as if almost nothing was wrong, but his eyes told a whole different story. He'd recognize that look everywhere. He had seen it several, numerous times before.   
  
Something was more than gravely wrong.  
  
"I am coming."  
  
The potions master led him through the empty, dimly lit hallways to Harry Potter's rooms in the dungeons, where barely someone came. Before the portrait hole, depicting the peaceful scenery of a landscape in Ireland with a rather attractive damsel on it, Dumbledore paused for a second, not out of exhaustion, but merely out of respect.   
  
This concerned Harry Potter; The-boy-who-lived, the young man who had defeated Voldemort with the simplest spell a wizard could come up with, the man who had disappeared for sixteen years and finally had shown up in Diagon Alley.   
  
He had not yet spoken to Harry as he had been planning to; he had indeed arrived with the Hogwarts express, and had been escorted to his rooms before Dumbledore had even gotten the chance to mutter a single word.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped through the portrait hole, and noticed Poppy Pomfrey muttering over the unconscious body of the former auror, trying to figure out what she could about his wounds or injuries, might he have any.  
  
And these rooms … He was convinced of the fact that he had not given Harry chambers like these; the ones he had given him had been decorated in the colours of Gryffindor, with a four poster bed fit for a king, with all the luxuries that a man could ever need.   
  
Not this. Not a room that looked like it could be the dingiest motel room in Knockturn alley, not even fit for a rat.   
  
"Albus!"   
  
The voice of Poppy Pomfrey made him tear his eyes away from this awful room, and his gaze rested on the limp body of Harry James Potter. He indeed did not look well; he had noticed the scars on his face, but had not thought there would be more. Not that much.  
  
Moody. Sirius. Those two names crossed his mind as he neared the small bed. He looked like a combination of those two persons of the past, two people the boy had adored and had looked up to during his teenage years.  
  
It almost seemed that he had done this willingly; that he had exposed his body to many combats and had received these scars as to prove that he was strong and brave enough.  
  
Of course he, Albus Dumbledore, did not know Harry's motives. He could only guess. And guessing was one thing he had become good in during the years.  
  
The scars on his chest looked like they had been hard to heal, and when he looked further down below the grey, worn boxers, he saw that even his legs looked like a map of all the rivers of Great Britain, marked with scars of all sizes, of all origins.   
  
One of them looked like the result of claws of a werewolf meeting that pale, tender flesh. Another one was from a sword. Another one from a Hixety spell.   
  
There were more, too much to properly identify, or count.     
  
In how a poor, mutilated state that this boy was in. Dumbledore sighed a loud, causing Pomfrey to look up from her patient, her care forgotten for a single second.  
  
"Look at this, Albus."   
  
She carefully grabbed the limp left arm of the man and turned it slightly, so he was able to see what scar had been hidden there; a bit further from his wrist, was a mark that could not be denied. He had seen it a few times before, only in Azbakan, under the greatest protection from the Dementors. For the bearers of that mark were strong, powerful.  
  
The Death Eaters mark. On Harry Potter's arm.  
  
"Do whatever you can to help his discomfort, Poppy."   
  
The elderly, plump woman nodded shortly before she reached for her bag and took out a greenish looking salve; with no doubt meant to soothe his other scars, who looked like those who could never completely heal; Dumbledore had a few of those as well, though not as many as the-boy-who-lived.  
  
"Severus, I want you to go with me."  
  
The potions master nodded. He knew that the former death eater had done exactly the same thing he had done; observe Potter's body in full amazement, in silence, out of respect.   
  
And shock.   
  
For Harry Potter was a death eater.  
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Heretic angel bows solemnly to :  
  
Lilth11 :  
  
Don't worry about the Weasleys; one of them will make a comeback somehow. And I shan't say more.   
  
I do not know how to explain what Severus has got, but will try and find a way to explain it. For now, I think 'a blasted knee' is the best I can do.  
  
The Dark Lord Harry Potter? * snorts * I do not think so. * smiles *   
You will be pleasantly surprised. I have only told two people who the Dark Lord is; and they all liked the idea and told me it was original. To find out, you will have to wait and see, I'm afraid.   
  
Thank you for the comment on The Witches Brew. I do not think Harry is an Absinthe drinker, neither as I believe Severus Snape is a bourbon drinker.   
  
Medusa; the ancient snake :  
  
I have had very few comment about making this story slash or not at all. All of my stories always had a hint of slash going on; but never graphic. Besides, right now, after many reflecting, I feel that Harry and Snape could and are not ready for a relationship of any sort. We'll see.   
  
Wanderingwerewolf :  
  
what do you mean , Harry's like deformed? I'm pretty sure that Alastar Moody was quite a normal man before he started his job. A job can change a person. And your past can too. Anyway, that is what I believe. All I know is that even I'm not the same as I was four years ago. * shudders * And I wouldn't want to be.  
  
Jess 16 :  
  
Thank you. But who couldn't even like Ron? He is adorable.  
  
Lady lightning : Care to give more explanation ?   
  
A typical Snarry fan: Thanks for that picture of Alan Rickman kissing Norman Reedus in the movie 'Dark Harbor'! I've been looking for that one. Two cuties! * drools *    
  
Rachel 1979 : I've updated! Exams * grumbles ¨* are not easy when you have a story in your head. The new story is up.


	9. Tragic Kingdom

  
Little seed of evil   
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
**_Please read my fic 'Where Armageddon ends'. It is good. Well, my opinion counts, does it?_**  
  
   
Little seed of evil – Chapter nine – Tragic kingdom  
   
Severus Snape, Potions master for more years than he could count, followed Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, through the familiar halls of this ancient castle. The people in their enchanted paintings moved restlessly as if they might have a hint of what was going on.   
  
None of them said a word; their words would only be spilled between closed doors; Dumbledore's reaction had been clear enough.   
As the staircase led them to the office, populated many times by as equal professors and headmasters; before Severus Snape would have sworn to see Dumbledore shake his head.   
  
Harry Potter. A Death eater. It certainly needed some time to sink in. A little time to sink in at the least.  
For they did not know his motives. For perhaps nobody had ever understood Harry Potter.  
  
"Now, Severus, please sit down."  
  
Dumbledore pointed to the seat that was usually reserved to him; Severus had not expected it any other way.  
  
"Some tea?"  
  
"Yes.", he answered. "Earl Grey."   
  
This was merely a habit; since he could remember, he had drank tea with Albus, to ponder over a serious matter. No matter what they said, tea helped to organize your thoughts a least a little bit.    
  
"Without milk and sugar?" There was that twinkle in his eyes again. He knew that he was teasing the potions master with this question; after all, this wasn't the first, or the last time they had sat down here together like this; and he bloody well knew.   
  
A house elf appeared with the asked tray. Dobby.  
  
"Is Mister Harry Potter okay, Misters? We saw him being escorted by mister Severus Snape, Misters. We would like to know how Mister Harry Potter is doing."  
  
Albus gave the house elf a friendly smile as he took the oversized tea tray from the little elf's small hands.   
  
"All I can say is that he is currently being taken care of by Poppy Pomfrey, Dobby. No need to worry. I will certainly let you know, might there be more information."  
  
"Dobby thanks you, Misters." The small elf with the what seemed like dozen scarves and socks on, clicked his fingers once, and disappeared into thin air, back to the kitchens.  
  
"Now, that is a friendly elf. I am almost happy that Harry set him free.", Dumbledore commented as he poured the tea into the white cups.  
  
"Which brings us to our subject."   
  
The older man sighed once again, grieve in his eyes as he sat down in the big leather chair that he had claimed as his over the years.  
  
"Yes. Harry. A very unfortunate matter."  
  
This caused the potions master to raise eyebrows.   
  
"Unfortunate? You are putting this rather lightly, Albus."  
  
But the man drank some hot tea from his cup. Severus Snape sighed. It was clear that Dumbledore's attention was lost. He was pondering his mind. 

He knew it would be a long time until before Dumbledore would respond again.   
  
Harry a Death Eater? Was he sure that he had seen it right? Wasn't it a strange collusion of several non-healing scars that had ended up, perhaps like this feared mark?   
  
What could have drawn Harry Potter, son of Gryffindors James Potter and Lily Evans to do such an atrocity?  For an atrocity it was.  
  
Would Harry Potter have had to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes? Had he killed Muggles? Or perhaps wizards or even Death Eaters?   
It seemed unbelievable that Harry Potter would commit such atrocities, but yet it was possible.   
  
He had seen much. He had seen Voldemort wipe at one of the oldest wizards families away, with merely a flick of his wand. The Weasleys. Would things have been different, had Ron Weasley still lived? If Ginny Weasley was not a catatonic in St Mungo's?   
  
And what about Hermione Granger? He remembered he had struggled to reach the dungeons, just to make that potion that would have cleared away those awful burns on her body. But he had collapsed halfway, carried back to the hospital wing by a rather grief-stricken Hagrid. When he had returned back to those dungeons, to his lab, and had made that particular potion, it had been too late. The wounds had been too old to heal properly.  
  
If only he had been able to reach those dungeons that very night, Hermione Granger would be that pesky witch again; not the witch that was rumoured to work at the ministry of magic, in the darkest dungeon they had.  
  
Sirius could not be forgotten. It had affected him as well.   
  
Was Harry perhaps looking for a weak spot in The Dark Lord's circles?  
  
When Severus Snape bent over to pick up his cup of tea and drank from it, he noticed that Dumbledore had been staring at him, with a gaze fixed solely on him. The tea was cold. How long had he been pondering over this case?  
  
"I do not want to jump to conclusions before Harry has had his say." Dumbledore made the tray disappear back into the kitchens with a small flick of his wand. And the potions master nodded.  
  
"Wise words. I just wanted to suggest the same thing."  
  
A slight smile came over The Headmaster's face as he looked around the room, the portraits whispering in their frames, Fawkes asleep on his stick.  
All peaceful and tranquil, while someone , somewhere in this castle was perhaps an enemy.  
  
"I remember that I did exactly the same thing for you, Severus Snape. And look where you are now."  
  
The Potions master didn't smile.   
  
As if his life with Dumbledore had been that good. Nothing more fun than to live through a stressful day with impotent brats who didn't know how to make a decent potion, and then to meet the Dark Lord, not knowing if you would return alive, bleeding to death.   
  
Sure.   
  
He should have known Dumbledore's motives from the beginning. The stupid old man.  Did he not understand that this new Dark Lord was much more powerful then the old one?  
  
"You are going to let Harry spy for the order.", Severus stated dryly. No emotion on his face this time; no shock, no puzzlement, no evil grin.   
Just emotionless.   
  
"It is that or hand him over to the Aurors." Dumbledore stood up, shifting the chair backwards as he did so. "And I don't want him to land in Azbakan. Perhaps he had his reasons for joining."  
  
Yes, everybody had reasons for joining The Dark Lord, Severus Snape mouthed silently as Dumbledore poured out a cup of tea, most certainly with milk and sugar.  Family that is threatened to be killed, or lured into the Dark order by friends, or just obliged to because your father was a Death Eater himself.  
  
But Harry had none of that. Perhaps he had other reasons. Reasons that were not that easy to find.  
  
"Tea?"  
  
Severus shook his head, almost angry. "No. I will return to my chambers now. I believe there is nothing more to discuss. I suggest you talk to him, Albus, as I am not the patient type. He has grown to be a rather secretive man."   
  
Not surprising, seen the facts.   
  
But Dumbledore smiled. And he knew that smile.  
  
"I was thinking just the opposite. Please report back to me as soon as you have found out anything. I will be waiting in your quarters."   
  
Severus Snape left the office as only he could; with black robes billowing behind him, his arms stiff alongside his body, his face in a stern gaze. And Dumbledore knew very well that he would not return to his chambers, but leave straight for the chambers of the boy-who-lived. For he obliged Dumbledore's orders blindly.  
  
As the hour was late, not a single student was seen in the hallways, and Severus relaxed slightly. No need for this masquerade. Not now. Not when nobody was looking. Instead of his strict, almost military motion, he slowed down, finally admitting to himself that his knee was hurting; badly. Severus Snape was limping.  
  
He had a bottle of salve on his bedside table that could help the matter for a few hours. The effects did not last much longer; and as he was allowed only to use it once a day; he would rather have a coupe of hours of peaceful sleep, legs stretched out in his bed, instead of cramping up his knees against a wooden, oversized desk.   
  
The damsel at Harry Potter entrance was asleep, and yelled a rather loud : "Fine! Come in!", when he muttered the password and thus had awoken her from any sweet dreams she might have had.  
  
Poppy Pomfrey was long gone; and Potter was up and moving; the distress from the pain earlier forgotten for the moment; drinking from a bottle of alcoholic drink that he could only recognize as 'Witches brew.' Not his most favoured drink; as it would always give him Bourbon, not his favourite drink at all.   
  
Some of the most worse scars had been patched up and bandaged, and he seemed rather annoyed about it. He was constantly tugging at some of the linen fabric, trying to stay upright, and to hold his glass and not to spill.  
  
"Professor Potter."  
  
He did not at all seem startled; but looked once into the direction of the Potions Master, and then asked: "Need a drink? I believe you have told Dumbledore about my Mark. Pomfrey muttered something about Azbakan in her haste to flee back to the hospital wards."  
  
"Dumbledore have asked me to come to talk to you. He will give you an option."  
  
A bitter laugh came out of him, a laugh that did not match the knowledge of the Harry Potter he had known . His eyes twinkled with an devilish touch.   
  
"Spy for him or Azbakan. I'm given perhaps the same option he had given you. And he will ask me for the reason why I have done this as well."  
  
One point for Potter, Severus Snape caught himself thinking as his gaze secretly went back to the arm where the Mark had been burned in; it no longer seemed to give him any discomfort. The calling was over; Harry had stood through it.   
  
Poppy Pomfrey had done her job well. Or maybe it had been the Witches brew. He did not know.   
  
"The reason is simple; I was asked to do so.", Potter continued after he had downed some more of the liquor from the glass he was still holding in his hand.   
  
"In case you might have completely forgotten it, Professor Snape, I did complete my studies as an Auror. When the new reign of Voldemort finally surfaced, Fudge asked me and a few others or if we were interested in an undercover operation, which would mean we would completely cease to be ourselves; new appearance, new name; this until death. I was glad to do it."  
  
Severus Snape never had gotten a choice; he had been forced into this dark circle because his father had been; the fact that Harry Potter had gone in there out of free will, puzzled him. But he did not let it show. Besides, Potter was drunk enough to tell him everything.  
  
 "I no longer wanted to be Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived-and-defeated-Voldemort was no longer the boy he had been in Hogwarts. I felt that it was time to make that clear. I quit being an Auror year ago."  
  
And that was all he told the Potions master. His face went blank again, the devilish twinkle in his eyes gone. But Severus Snape did not doubt one single second that he had been telling the truth.  
  
Just as Severus Snape wanted to ask if he would reconsider about the deal, Harry James potter sighed, and told him: "Tell him that I agree to spy for him. And that I quit when I want to. If he does not agree, I'll be happy for the Aurors to capture me."  
  
Hermes hooted silently as Severus Snape went out of the room. He still did not quite understand Potter's motivations. The fact that Harry had swallowed his words slightly when he had explained that he had quit his job as an Auror, was a dead give-away. The reason of his Dark Mark did not lay there, but more so the answers of his return to the normal Wizarding world.   
  
Severus Snape shook his head as he once again walked the dark halls, limping heavily. Harry Potter certainly was no longer Gryffindors Golden boy.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was indeed waiting for him when he finally was 'home', back to the one spot in this damned castle where he felt more or less at ease.  
  
He sighed at the sight of the Headmaster. He was tired. All he wanted was to put on the salve and go to bed. Perhaps take some dreamless sleep potion as well.   
  
"He has agreed. Under one condition. That he quits when he wants to."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. No twinkle in his eyes. Had he finally understood?   
  
"Now Severus, I suggest you go to bed and take care of that knee of yours."   
  
No need to tell, the Potions Master thought angrily as he watched the Headmaster leave. He dropped himself down on the big four poster bed, his face making a grimace when he hit his knee against one of the posts.   
  
"Time to go asleep, Severus. Tomorrow it is a school day."  
  
His silent mutters were lost in the silence of his rooms.  
  
  
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Please review … Consider it a Christmas gift for me. Oh and by the way : Merry Christmas and a happy New year! Or Chanukah or whatever.   
  
    
Crazy-lil_nae-nae : weird user name you've got! But Severe thanks for reading my story. I was getting desperate.  
  
  



	10. bittersweet sypmhony

Little seed of evil   
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
I'm sorry about this rather late update. Looks like my old computer crashed, just when I was working on this chapter. Result: total loss. The lost data could not be retrieved, and then there was of course, the new computer. I've spent a week roaming in my PC, checking it out, because Windows XP is so different from Windows 98. Well, I'm back.  
  
I have a new Harry Potter story out, for those who were not yet aware of it: "When Armageddon ends". Please go and read it if you liked this story.    
  
I also have a livejournal. I will use this for mindless rambling, book reviews and one off fics I might never post on ffnet, just because they're too strange. No new stories up now, but there will be in the future.   
  
So, if my stories might seem a little out of it, You know how. I haven't written a story in several months, me have promised myself a nifty little PVC top ( yeah, I'm kinky, so what ) if I get over 70 reviews. So ...   
  
Lyrics belong to The Verve. Matches wonderfully well with this story.   
  
And now … I gotta get a move on. This story has far from really begun.   
:S A lotta work (instead of a lotta love)  
  
Little seed of evil – Chapter ten – Bittersweet symphony  
  
**_Well I never pray  
  
But tonight I'm on my knees yeah  
  
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah  
  
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
  
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now  
  
_**Yes, Harry James Potter was praying. Down on his sore and painful knees, hands clasped tight around the other one,  praying in the Muggle fashion he had so long ago abandoned.   
  
Not that he was praying to God. This almighty Muggle fictional figure didn't mean anything to him. He was praying to people he'd lost long ago; friends, family and partners, in the hope they could give him redemption for what he'd done, one thing Albus Dumbledore would not.  
  
He was badly shaken, but would not let it show. Right after Snape had left his chambers, he had sunken down onto the majestic carpet, and clasped his hands together for prayer.  
  
The words had come to him like there was no end; he had begged and begged, hoping that some ghost appear from the realm they were caught in, it be heaven or hell, or some substantial realm in between. He was those words to his estranged parents, people he had never known and never would, to Sirius, to Molly Weasley and most importantly; Ron Weasley.   
  
Ron Weasley, who had never gotten the chance to grow old. It saddened him most of times, when not drunk on Muggle liquor  or Witches brew, and right now his death fell down hard.  
  
But this changed nothing to the fact that Harry James Potter was down on his knees, praying.   
  
He was afraid.  
When he turned his wrist ever so slightly, the fabric fell away, and he could see the bandage marking the place where a wound had been. It no longer was, thanks to the magical skills of Poppy Pomfrey.   
  
The desire was so strong … and Gods , they knew he was weak right now.  
He could almost imagine the metal blade of the sharp knife shining in the moonlight, cutting this pale, vulnerable flesh ever so smoothly, ever so careful.   
  
But he knew that he could no longer do this. He was tired of spells, sick of potions to hide his scars. And he knew there were much more then they could see. And he was almost certain that he would have to account for it, right there in Dumbledore's office.  
  
The hour was late, and he was tired yes, but he knew that sleep would not come at all, no matter how much he tried. And a potion he would not take; it would make him delve too deep into his thoughts and nightmares, too far.  
  
Was he furious? He could not say. He had all reason to, of course. But it had been partially his fault. Snape had done what every man would have done if one saw a man suffering in front of his own eyes. It didn't quite matter if you had hated to particular person dearly the past years. He knew that much. No man can stand true suffering.   
  
And perhaps he had suffered badly, in Snape's eyes. But everyday's routine had somewhat dulled to pain to an annoying blur. Except when the Dark mark came. Then there was no holding back the grimaces of pain. The only thing that could numb the pain then was the comforting bottle of liquor.   
  
And Snape had not understood that. Yes, he had understood when he saw the Dark mark.  
  
He relieved his strained hands from their grasp, and slowly got up from the warm, soft carpet, to merely sit down in the arm chair, the only thing that had moved with him from hide-out to hide-out.   
  
Perhaps he had grown used to the lack of sleep; years of ill sleeping made routine. He could only sleep when there was someone keeping watch. In years past it had been Ron, Hermione and Lex, short for Alexander.  
  
Lex was an auror , having signed for Fudge's mission. Closest partners they had been, and they had trusted each other with their own life.   
  
But Lex was gone now, as was Ron. The memory was painful, the pain too fresh.   
  
His hand reached out for his bottle of Witches brew, but he abondoned the idea. He needed to be fresh tomorrow.  
  
Hangovers didn't bother him; rumours did. There would be enough rumours tomorrow, with the students getting the 'heroic' Harry Potter as a DADA teacher. He had expectations to fullfill; and he wasn't looking forward to it. Not at all.   
  
Daylight came sooner then he though it would be. What meant that the day was to begin soon.   
  
After standing up from that oh so comfortable chair , stretching his sore muscles, he looked into the mirror. Not a magically enhanced mirror, no. He had gotten enough of screaming mirrors years ago. This was a plain muggle one, with a baroque gilt frame.   
  
He looked bad. He looked like any old man that seemed to to fall over at anyy moment.  
He looked like a drunk. Or an insommiac.  
  
In fact, he looked much like Remus Lupin in his old days, the 'good' old days of his life.   
  
Torn robes, scarred face, unkempt hair … He had become his own worst nightmare.  
  
Nobody wanted to become the very mixed image of their deadfather, mother and godfather.   
And yet he had become that very image.   
  
Only one thing seemed important to him now, how silly it ever sounded; he needed a shower.   
  
It would soothen his strained muscles, relieve the pain, and make him forget the world for a very short moment.   
  
He removed his robes, and threw them aside, never looking where they ended up. His boxers remained on his body. Even though he was alone here, he had the feeling that still some decency was allowed.   
  
The hot shower beam had worked like a charm. He almost felt like a new man … for so far it was possible. As he stepped out of the shower, with faint regret in the heart that he had to abandon it so very soon, he carefully stepped out into his living quarters.  
  
At first glance, he only saw a red path lying across his bed. Nearing closer to the path, it turned out to be a pair of robes. New robes, because he had not ever possessed a set of robes like this in his whole life. Not in this fabric, not in thick, heavy velvet. Not this finely made. A small card lay upon the robes. Harry recognized the hand writing immediately.   
  
Dumbledore.   
  
It was an easy decision to make; if he would wear these robes, he would show him that he was subdient. A follower. A slave.  
  
He went to one of his battered trunks and selected out of the robes he had, the most faded and worn of them all. It would tell him that he was not at all planning to play the slave.   
  
Not after having been one for so many years.  
  
It was his oldest pair; plain black fabric, not in velvet or any of that sort. Just plain, durable fabric. But one fight had seemed enough to demolish it. So he had stitched the pieces back together with a wave of his wand. He could not part from clothing that fit him perfectly, or paid for himself.   
  
The bloodstains were since long gone, removed by magic, but he knew that they were there.   
  
They simply were.  
  
Lex's blood must be on this robe somewhere as well. This piece of worn fabric had one meaning; the gruesome meaning of death. He had been wearing them when he saw The Burrow go up in flames; he still had been wearing it as he tried to soothe Hermione, screaming in pain as the magic burned deeper and deeper into her skin.   
  
Black was good. Black was evil. The color black. Now he partially understood why Severus Snape always wore black; he mourned. But about what? That must be his biggest secret.  
  
He grabbed the books he had selected for his students, and made his way to the Great Hall.  
  
Early risers from the different houses already were gawking at the mere sight of him, which brought a little smile to his lips. What would Dumbledore's reaction be?  
  
Would it be anger? Would it be dissapointement? He seriously didn't know, how secretly he hoped that The Headmaster would be furious. Yet that chance was small.  
  
He sat himself down on the very spot where he had been drinking last night; next to Poppy Pomfrey. She was't here. Ah well.   
  
He couldn't be bothered.  
  
   
  


   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
To people who have reviewed and have asked 'important' questions or statements.   
  
Lady lightning: Don't worry about it. I'm just really happy that people are actually reading and reviewing it. I don't need a full length review, just a sign that it has been read.  
  
Menecarkawan: This is my fourteenth try to reply on your nifty review.  
  
_Touche. Harry joined because the idiot Fudge asked him to? That's interesting. If he joined to be a spy, why should he go to Azkaban for it? Or am I interpreting it wrong? Oh dear, but I'm confused. Can't wait to see more from you.  
  
_The idiot Fudge, as you put it nicely ( and correctly) asked Harry to join because he had several connections to the former Dark Lord. But under strict condictions. _A spy must work alone, and when in trouble, never go to his bosses. _Which clearly Harry never did. After all, this was a top-top secret operation, only involving four people at the most, including Harry and Fudge.  
  
So, if an Auror happened to track Harry down, he would sentenced as a Death Eater, and not let free as a spy, merely because so little people knew about his 'little' job.And as we all know, Fudge has never had a 'affection' for Harry. Or was I just imagining it? Well, in this story he is the bad man.  
  
And your 'stab' at who exactly the Dark Lord is, was quite in the right direction, but still not quite there. And I know about the wrong time table.  
  
Wandering Wolf: Is it just me, or do you seem an annoying little kid that does not want to listen? I have stated several times that Harry Potter is NOT the Dark Lord. Bloody Hell! Little kids! * Grumbles *  
  
And others : your reviews are more than appreciated.   
  
    _  
  
_


	11. wanted dead or alive

Little seed of evil   
  
  
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
** I have a new Harry Potter story out, for those who were not yet aware of it: "When Armageddon ends". Please go and read it if you liked this story.    
**  
I also have a livejournal. I will use this for mindless rambling, book reviews and one off fics I might never post on ffnet, just because they're too strange. No new stories up now, but there will be in the future.   
  
  
  
I have promised myself a nifty little PVC top ( yeah, I'm kinky, so what ) if I get over 70 reviews. So ...   
  
Dedicated to serenitas, the angelic vampire and charming death , three of the coolest people around.  Like ever.   
  
**And oh, just one tiny, little fact : I write based on reviews. If I only get one miserable review per chapter, I won't be easily tempted to write the next chapter. That's why this chapter took me so long.**   
  
**And this chapter was co-written/co-plotted with the angelic vampire , a writer here on Ffnet. Check out her work, she's great!**  
  
  
Little seed of evil – Chapter eleven – Wanted dead or alive  
  
He felt like a youngster again, his self confidence strong, feeling powerful and reckless. The famous Harry Potter, never quite understanding _ why _he was so special, not quite understanding his part in this war between wizards.   
  
Never knowing why he was alive. Had he only been born for this? To stop the war between wizards?   
  
It was bringing back bad memories of how he used to be, being the teacher in a class he didn't want to be in, surrounded by the house he liked the least ; Slytherins.   
  
The third year Slytherins had been silent when he had entered the classroom, but when he had just sat down in his chair, the class had quickly turned the way Slytherins always are: arrogant.  Just plainly arrogant.  
  
Slytherins never change, he guessed.  
  
But this class would soon be silent, he promised himself.  
  
He looked at the silent room in front of him.   
  
Could they have saddled him with a class worse than this one?   
  
He didn't think so. 3rd year Slytherins, only third year Slytherins, doing what they did best. Watching him, observing him, judging him. Harry's eyes narrowed, knowing they would have noticed. He'd give them something to judge him by.   
  
He didn't know whom they were expecting. He didn't know if they thought they were going to be fazced with A golden boy turned man, or a bitter reclusive bastard.   
  
Frankly, he didn't care. He would show them what he was, by showing them nothing at all. He would teach them, only to see them pull back from his teachings, he would do what he did best. Drive people away.  
  
Harry looked at the alphabatised name list, lying on his desk. His eyes flicked over the names, until they halted at one.  He looked up and scanned the room. As he laid eyes on the one, whose name he just read, a small smirk flitted across his features.   
  
He looked back up at the first name. "Cornwell"

  
"Present" , a darkhaired girl replied.   
  
He looked at the girl, who was avidly watching every move he  made. Harry smiled. They were all watching every move he made.   
  
In a series of movements that ressembled a blur, he trained his wand on the girl and stupified her. He looked at the slightly shellshocked class in front of him, as they watched their year mate go rigid and fall to the ground. As one they looked at him.  
 

"Rule number one: Constant Vigilance, Number two: never, ever give away your position. Questions, ? Comments? "   
  
Harry looked around at the silent class. "Let's proceed shall we? Crychek."  
  


No one answered.  
  


Poppy glared as another 3rd year Slytherin came in, sporting bruises. She pointed at an open bed, and watched as the boy dragged himself into it. She frowned, then looked back at the girl she was bandaging.

"DADA you say?"

The girl looked at her, eyes wide open. An expression she'd nearly never seen on a Slytherin. It made something throb inside her heart, made something burn, made herself feel choked. Oddly, unable to speak. She who had been faced with dsome of the more vile war wounds, felt undone by a Slytheirn's expression. 

The girl nodded.

"Alright then" She spoke. "Alright then". But it wasn't, and neither were fooled. Not the patient, nor the matron herself. Nothing was alright, and as the next 3rd year Slytherin walked in with that same wide-eyed, lost expression, she steeled her resolve .  
  
Poppy looked at the stubborn woman in front of her. 

"Minerva, please. You should have seen him teaching, he resembled a madman possessed." , she spoke. Minerva turned to look at her, with those haunted eyes. Eyes that had seen to much. Eyes that had seen things no one ever should have witnessed. Not a child, not an adult, not an aged wizard or witch. No one.   
  
But they all had, hadn't they? They's all seen things no one should. That was why she was doing this. The war had changed them, all of them, if only they had a role model to lift their spirits. Someone they could look up to, somone that could ensnare nations. Someone mythical, someone like the-boy-who-lived.   
  
If she could bring Harry back to where he belonged. To them. If she could make him act the way they expected him to, then everything would be fine. Just fine. Why couldn't Minerva see that? She had to see that.

"Minerva-"

"No, Poppy, I don't believe his behaviour merits this kind of action. I just don't."

Poppy's eyes narrowed. She knew what would make Minerva revise that opnion, and though she had promised Albus to keep quiet... She knew this was what was necessary.

"He's Marked."

Minerva whirled around, looking at her, eyes shocked. Horrified.

"You Lie!"

Poppy just looked at her, unmoving. She watched as Minerva crumbled before her. Eyes, more dead than they had been before her anouncement, locked with hers.   
  
  
_And that way, the intervention was put up. An intervention consisting of the heads of the four houses of Hogwarts, Madama Mcgonogall for Gryffindor, Madama Sprout for Hufflepuf, Sir Flitwick for Ravenclaw, Poppy Pomfrey, who started this convention, and me of course , Severus Snape for Slytherin.   
  
I think I should have felt repelled in one way or another. After all, it was the students of my house that Potter attacked without mercy. But then on the other hand, I haven't been known as a merciful person for other houses either.  
Poppy Pomfrey was frantic, angry, guesturing wildly as she described what she had seen when peering through the keyhole of Potter's classroom, and honestly said, I couldn't have teached a bunch of Gryffindors that way better myself. From what I could believe from Poppy's testimony, of course.  
  
_

_I feel oddly amused at this mockery of a trial they're setting up for Potter. Amused because, yes it had been my SLytherins he attacked, but then again, I've never been one for the cuddle and protect approach. I can't treat my Slytherins the way I should, they way they need.   
  
__They should receive this kind of behavior, because from the looks of it, another Dark Lord is recruiting once more, and if he is anything like my master had been.   
  
These children, those that are to be marked, as their parents are, they have a painfilled life in front of them. __Better to learn now, and know what kind of world lays hidden from plain view than to find it out in  a much harsher way. __The way of the ignorant. __I'm also amused because I believe, they're convinced that Potter __wants to be redeemed.   
  
I don't know what drove Potter to taking the mark, but there lies more there than merely Fudge asking the boy - man - to. Potter never had any love lost for the fool, never. _

_  
And then comes the feeling of being slighted. Why are they doing fot Potter what they had never done for me. I know it is petty, but I can't help it._

_They are willing to bend over backwards for the brat-who-lived, while I'm sure they wouldn't even blink twice when faced with the demise of a Slytherin, with the damnation of one, when they were faced with me.  
  
Oh, yes. Potter is King.  
  
Now Minerva leaves the trial, only to return with Harry Potter. There's an amused look in his eyes you cannot deny. He taunts us, to see how for he can get without going over any invisible borders.  
  
There's a small smirk playing around his lips. But yet there's seriousness that I can't place. He knows that this trial is serious. But he won't fight. He will explain, lay down his cards on the table if he has to, but nothing more.  
  
Minerva glances once towards Pomfrey, to tell her she must remain calm. Anger doesn't solve anything.   
_  
"Mr. Potter, we have set up this triad to question the way you seem to treat the 3rd year Slytherin students."  
  
_The smirk doesn't fall away, but the look in his eyes becomes something else, something much more dark. What is there behind those secretive eyes? How I would love to find out.  
_  
"And what is there wrong with my teaching methods?", he replies calmly, his eyes pits of darkness, imprisoning something we are not to know. The way he says this, is almost offhand like, like he doesn't care for it very much.  
  
"You seem to injure the students, Mr. Potter. Harm them. Mostly the Slytherins. ", Minerva replies calmly, her eyes cool as ice. He does not impress her with his behaviour. Well, nobody is impressed. Except for me.  
  
_But The not so golden boy plays it smoothly. He doesn't reply, but his smirk grows even wider._  
  
"Why are you doing this, Harry?", Sprout asks quietly, as if afraid to add something to the so far fruitless conversation. "Haven't we always been good to you, Harry?"  
  
_Ah! This took him by surprise. He looks up, wondering, almost afraid.   
_  
"Yes, you _all_ have been good to me." , he starts.  
  
_Ah, was that sarcasm? Doesn't need thinking to figure out who that might be._  
  
"Let's just say, that before Hogwarts, the teachers I had, were the kind I needed most; strict, demanding and never content."  
  
"They were rather harsh on me, pounding their knowledge in my brains just as quickly as they could, in more ways than one. After all, I was just Harry Potter, orphan, living with Dudley Dursley. I had no rights. Teachers and students loathed me and used me. It doesn't mean that I have had a wonderful education here at Hogwarts that I should copy your ways of teaching. I believe in my own ways. "  
  
  
Harry watched amused as the elderly women looked at him shocked. Disbelievingly. and yet, they accepted his words as truth. Such contrary creatures they were, not that he had any right to comment on that, after all, he was the king of contradictions. He'd meant so much with so few words, revealed so many secrets he no longer wished to keep. And they were appalled.   
He could see it in the way they were suddenly eyeing him. For they had not missed most of what he had implied. He could care less. Did they really think, he would throw himself at their feet, and asked to be forgiven?   
  
They didn't know what forgiveness entailed for theyweren't acquainted with damnation. The only one who could possibly understand, was the one whose's eyes he had been avoiding up until now. And as he locked eyes with that obsidian gaze. He felt more alive than he had been in the past few years. 

 AUTHORS COMMENTS (Heretic angel) : 

Writing the next chapter after having waited so long seems to become a severe problem.I started writing it, starting of with Harry awakening, and going through the routines of the day. The next chapters would then have been dedicated to Severus and Dumbledore, but it just didn't seem right.   
  
I also somehow lost my drafts for those chapters, so I decided to stop altogether with those plans.Not without any grief in the heart of course, because some of the drafts I wrote were pretty much complete.  
  
So I have decided to carry on with plan B; facing Harry with the decision Dumbledore faced him with, and the more detailed reactions from Potter, Snape and Dumbledore.   
  
I also have decided to make Harry prone to self-mutilation, which would also explain some of the many scars I gave him. Surely Harry, as an auror , would not have received that many incurable wounds in combat! That would have him more scarred of combat then Mad eye moody.   
  
  
Liked it? loved it? let me know please.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  



	12. lapis

Little seed of evil   
  
Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.   
  
Rating: R .  
  
Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.  
  
I have a new Harry Potter story out, for those who were not yet aware of it: "When Armageddon ends". Please go and read it if you liked this story.   
  
Little seed of evil – Chapter eleven – Lapis**  
  
**

Even though the dream hurts me I don't change anything

I opened a new door...

I continue into the expanding world

I could embrace this body until it hurts

I could hurt myself

In order to become just a little bit stronger...

I just... keep walking on the endlessly continuing road

**  
****When their gazes at last interlocked, Harry saw far too much in those eyes, things that he now vaguely understood, things he had not been able to understand as the student in Snape's class. He was the first one to tear his eyes away from those obsidian eyes. And Severus Snape had done the same thing, only now there was a big smirk on his face. Why? Because he had discovered yet another fact?   
  
Harry staggered slightly, out of emotion and of pain, and his right hand unconsciously clutched his left arm, although the dark mark did not burn. It was a reflex, a mere reflex, but he had never thought that his reflex would cause so much commotion. He saw McGonagall's eyes widen up, Pomfrey who opened and closed her mouth as if she was a fish, and Snape who almost threw his chair backwards in order to get him out of here before everyone would know that he was a death eater. But they all, more or less, behaved. Poppy Pomfrey was cut short by a glance  from McGonagall, and McGonagall took her duty seriously, and became emotionless soon enough. Snape sank back into his chair, after staring at him for a single moment, which to Harry had seemed like hours.  
  
But the pain could not be ignored. He had tried to ignore it last night, had tried to ignore it right now, during this ridiculous meeting, but it was still there, wasn't it? Ignoring things always made them worse. Harry groaned quietly and he hoped that none of them had heard his small slip of the mind.  
  
"Sorry, but other matters await me. I do not see the need to remain here." He swiftly turned around, forcing his body to perform that movement perfectly well, and left the room before anyone had the chance to complain. He walked through the hallways in the same manner he had left the room until he had reached one of the more secluded hallways in the castle.  
  
Only then he allowed his body to break down, only then did he sink down to his knees and did he bury his head in his hands. His hands, shaking like those of an old man, clutched ruthlessly at his hair, as if he wanted to tear chunks out of it.  
  
When had the pain become too much? Perhaps it was Hogwarts, the teachers, the memories, the young, innocent students. Around every corner of this dammed castle he expected to see the young , innocent Hermoine with a thick book in her tiny hands, and Ron behind her, smiling broadly about something funny that had happened just seconds ago. He expected to see Ginny somewhere, and all the others. He didn't care or if they had been Slytherins or not, he missed them. Most of them were far away and gone, or changed, like Hermoine . It hurt him to see her as the broken witch she was now, huddled somewhere in a tiny room in the basement of the Ministry of magic.   
  
He had lost all track of time, huddled into the miserable heap he was now, his limbs searing with pain, his head too full with unanswered questions.  
  
Severus Snape had, after Harry ran out of the room, excused himself as well, but in a more polite way, and had limped out of the room, his knee searing with pain already. The pain had kicked in too soon and the salve he had applied to it last night had not helped a bit. Limping as fast as he could, he followed the sound of Harry's hurried footsteps, until he heard them no longer. Using his instincts to find him, Severus found Harry Potter sitting in a secluded corner of the castle, huddled into a miserable heap of pity.   
  
Severus barely could believe his eyes. What he had seen only minutes earlier had only been the tip of the iceberg. Behind this reserved and slightly cruel behaviour, lurked a vulnerable and broken Harry Potter, more broken then he had perceived him to be. Perhaps there were more reasons behind the taking of the Dark Mark. He would certainly have to ask for once, but now he needed to re-collect whatever there was left of Potter and bring him to his quarters before one of those annoying teachers would come and ask some more questions again.  
  
He bent over, and grabbed Harry's right arm, avoided the dark mark as his long and pale fingers enclosed around his arm and pulled the body of Harry Potter upright. The boy opened his eyes, almost full of tears. Whether it were tears out of physical pain, or something else, he could not tell. But he could tell, from the spasms that went through this skinny body, that he was in severe in pain. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he was already contemplating to make him a salve, a potion that could get him rid of the pain for a few hours, but something else did also tell him that he would not want this.   
  
As he confessed to him that fateful night, he needed that pain.  
  
But some sense awakened inside of Potter's troubled soul, and he tore his arm free from his soft grip.  
  
 "I don't need your help. Far from it.", he spat out angrily, as he stood there wavering and staggering weakly, barely able to stand on his legs. His knees looked like they'd give away any second now.   
  
"Okay, Potter. See for yourself."   
  
His voice, he hoped , sounded like the mocking teacher he had been almost a decade ago. And when Potter moved his legs, he did not drop to the floor instantly; a knee did give away, but he found support against a pillar, a dusty old pillar against the wall. Resuming this game of proving him that he was strong enough, and most certainly not too weak yet to break down anywhere near his environments , Potter started a long and painful walk back to his private rooms.  
  
Severus kept an eye him, though, ready towards run him if he should fall; to see Potter in this way strangely enough breaking something inside of him; so young, and yet so troubled. For the ones who had predicted that Harry Potter was to live a happy, worriless life after the War, he wished he could cast a spell upon them. Who was ever to think this, was to be proven to be terribly wrong. But Potter had made it to his quarters without falling over from the pain. Once he was out of sight, Severus stormed down to his own dungeons.  
  
The potions shelves were lined with  painkillers, and the likes. Painkillers, the one stronger than the other. He had tried them all; and he was sure that half of them would not even work in Harry's case. He selected a purple coloured salve, one he had tried, and later abandoned, for it gave far too many unwanted after-effects. But it was likely to work for Potter, if only the bastard would accept his help.  
  
But he needed a moment of calm. Getting worked up was not going to solve anything at all. He let himself drop into one of the luxurious , velvet lined chairs, enjoying the soft touch of the fabric. Whoever had invented velvet, deserved a treat. He threw his head backwards, and let it rest on the edge of the high backed chair.  
  
Harry Potter lay on the ground of his own chambers now,  panting, trying to ignore the pain. If only he could just make that pain go away now, before the Dark Lord would summon him one more time … He had ignored the callings for too long now, and he knew that a next calling was not far off.    
  
His owl, Hermes, was looking at him, seated on the cupboard,  head cocked, eyes opened large and wide. He hooted and flapped his wings once.   
  
"Yes, Hermes, I know." Harry stuttered, his voice barely audible. He knew that he should get some help, even it was from Pomfrey or … Snape. But he didn't want that help. Every time he started to trust people, things would happen he had no control over. Harry weakly shook his head, a sob caught in his throat. Dumbledore, Pomfrey … people he had trusted earlier on. Strange how a simple matter as trust could be destroyed so quickly.  
  
But perhaps he had betrayed their trust as well. Had he not? Instead of growing up to be a family man, surrounded by 4 or 5 kids, he had ended up like this. A hurt, broken man who hurt his own students.  
  
The door opened. Slumping footsteps. Snape. Strong arms who helped him to get up and settled down in his chair. Cold hands who skilfully removed his robes and  applied some salve to his scars and wounds.   
  
Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of those cold hands against his skin, and tried not to whimper in pain. It hurt, yes.  Even not those cold hands could diminish that. Even though they tried. He could not deny that.  
  
" It will stop hurting soon. For a while at least." Severus wiped off his hands at his robes as he looked down at _him_. "And next time, Potter, please do tell me that you are in pain. I know what pain is all about, and it is not … fun to live with it."  
  
"Now. Why?"  
  
Severus sat down on the bed, and looked at the seemingly calm body that sat in front of him. "Why did you hurt my students?"  
  
Harry smirked uneasily. This man would not give up until he had gotten the true answer, now would he? Fine. He would give him the truth. "Because the future will not be nice to them. No need to spare them. Constant vigilance it is. And constant vigilance it will be."  
  
"They are not Aurors, Potter. They are merely students." Snape's voice sounded cold, as if he still could not understand.   
  
"When I was their age, I did far more dangerous things. I knew that I would end up like this. I just knew."  
  
Harry opened his eyes and stared into those black eyes. "You are the teacher I always loathed. And every single time again, you gave me more reasons to hate you. The occlumency lessons. The fact you always pounded on the fact that I was just like my father. The way you seemed to hate me, the way I was your  outlet of anger in class."  
  
Severus Snape merely nodded now and then, to show him that he was listening, but not necessarily agreeing. Time had faded away most of those feelings of hatred against Harry, this much he knew.  
  
"Your father, Harry, was a … jerk. And my opinion on that will never change. Your mother, though, was a sweet little thing. I never understood why she got around with those idiots. And now, the more I look at you, the more I realize that you are indeed not like your father. And only now I realize that you have the eyes of your mother. Green like emerald."   
  
Snape looked around him, eyeing Harry Potter's quarters with clear disgust. "Now, Potter, do something about these quarters. They are disgusting." And with those words, Severus Snape left the rooms.  
  
 **

 ****


End file.
